said two youngsters as they flew by me on their fancy pants bikes at the second bridge crossing. Slightly startled, I moved over to the shoulder because I was concentrating more on unwinding my rubber band from work then putting power to the pedals. I answered the greyhounds back with a respectful little, "have a good one" thinking that they were in fact of the caliber of pedal pushers who can offer up the definitive claim of - we won't be seeing that guy again. They effortlessly rolled off the front with their 29" waists and wheels. I re-positioned myself on the saddle and settled in for a few moments of "unwinding".
Work was no longer bouncing around my frontal cortex as I unzipped my jersey and concentrated on my pedal stroke. Transferring power to the pedals is a funny thing, there are days that it seems impossible and others where the crank rotation is absolutely silky. As I rolled through the first turn as the fire road tilts upward, I was leaning towards the silky side of things today. The road gets punchy for a few moments and I was feathering the throttle to keep from blowing up when I heard one of the greyhounds chatting about me as I approached the next set of turns. It had something to do with my bike. In a moment of defiance, I accelerated passed a lung on a stick runner who was doing interval work (?) and caught the two greyhounds just as the road leveled off. I asked them if they were headed to Santa Rosalia and they said no they were going all the way to the top (is that Mt Umunhum, Hamilton, Sonora, Tioga?). I couldn't help myself and told them as I kept accelerating that they definitely won't see me at the top and to have a great day.